


Courtesy of Napoleon Solo

by stads02



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, these cuties, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stads02/pseuds/stads02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because let's be honest Napoleon is a total matchmaker from start to finish.</p>
<p>(Or where Smol and Tol get married.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courtesy of Napoleon Solo

It had taken seven years to get them where they were.

Becoming one of the best agents of UNCLE wasn’t easy, and dealing with the KGB was even harder. Along the way KGB had abandoned the Russian spy, which was in a way much better then him having to turn his back on his mother country. All it’d taken was a small letter, briefly stating that he was no longer useful to the KGB and Illya avoiding the assassin sent to kill him as they would have not wanted the Russian giant as a loose end. Perhaps though it Gaby’s intervention by having Waverly, who was presently the head, and president of UNCLE to have a couple well placed words, and his heavy shackles were forever off his wrists.

It was all worth it though. They smiled at each other, both glowing with happiness as the sun hit the stained glass windows in the church, lighting it up with warm and festive colors.

For two spies it was most likely the worst move that you could do; being romantically attached.

And yet Illya and Gaby –or simply Gaby- had glowered and said, “Fuck it,” to which the Russian promptly tipped his glass in the air and drank to, while Napoleon grinned his knowing grin and promised that he would do all that he could to aid them in their journey.

Then somehow this surprisingly large wedding had been thrown together -courtesy of Napoleon- and they couldn’t have been happier. According to the American, he was going to make it perfect, and the Red Peril simply did not have the refined taste that a wedding would require.

The wedding brought many surprises. Some amazing. Some unwanted. And many that caused the two to sigh.

Firstly, Napoleon had shocked the two by booking them a flight to Moscow for a week. Upon landing back in the iron curtain Gaby and Illya felt themselves tense, but when Illya stopped walking with their luggage out of the airport suddenly it was all worth it.

“Mother,” he’d gasped. Then like a small child he’d run to the woman with the same startling blonde hair and hugged her the same tight hug that Gaby would always receive.

They had lunch together in a nice restaurant -another courtesy of Napoleon- and Illya’s mother Natalia quietly explained while they ate their meals.

“Maxim did it to protect me. To protect you. You were such a young boy at the time, and he was willing to do anything for you,” she stirred slowly at the hot tea in front of her, watching the milk swirl into the water, “KGB agents are simply, not supposed to fall in love and have children. He was going to be severely punished. We decided that it would be for the best if it looked like your father abandoned us, but that the KGB successfully tracked me down no matter our efforts. Instead, I went into hiding, but your father did suffer. They knew I was alive and well but they could not find me, so they found you, and used you as a weapon. But by then, your father was already gone. Do not blame him Illya. He was a good man. A brave man, no matter what they told you.”

Gaby took his hand. Over the years together she’d learned the different trembles. The twitching of rage, or the movement of excitement. This shaking was disbelief, and awe.

“Then this whole time,” he frowned, “You never thought to tell me.”

“I did. I wanted to my little sun,” she longingly to her son, “But I couldn’t. If the KGB found out that I was still alive then we would,” she left the end of the sentence unfinished. Their imaginations could each suffice an appropriate, and equally awful ending for the mother and son.

“Now you are getting married. Mr. Solo, I don’t know how, but he found me. If this is the only time I can see you, it will not be wasted. This is a happy celebration. My son,” her eyes looked shiny, “All grown up.”

Then when she drove them to her house, another surprise awaited them.

“Mama!”

Two small children slammed into her legs hugging them while Illya awkwardly stood like a statue. Gaby took it has a sign to comfortingly rub her thumb over his hand.

Natalia picked up the smaller child, who had the same shock of blonde hair, “This is Victoria,” and this little troublemaker, is Sasha.”

The boy who still had his arms wrapped around their mother’s side looked up with a toothy grin and reddish brown hair that could only confirm it.

Then Natalia beamed, “Mr. Solo said that they could have the honor of being your ring-bearer and flower girl. They would be happy to do so. He even bought them the clothing that they’d need.”

She pointed to a courier’s box which looked like it had only been recently opened. Inside were tiny folded up suit and dress sized for the small children and a small note with a scrawl that they could barely read. _Courtesy of Napoleon Solo._

Gaby watched her husband’s blank face as she took over and said that they were delighted that Victoria and Sasha would help them with the wedding. She laughed inside as Illya just nodded with all that she said. Even the KGB, and several years working with UNCLE and their team’s unorthodox ways of completing missions could have never prepared him for anything like this.

It didn’t prepare Gaby to realize his surprising adeptness with children that made her warm in all the right places, and it most certainly didn’t prepare Illya to _become_ a jungle-gym for the two munchkins who seemed to have infinite energy and an equal love for climbing, jumping and playing on and off things.

Gaby could only smile, adjust her sunglasses and continue reading the newspaper she’d bought as she watched the three play near the bench she was seated on in the park.

“No you cannot run over there. Apologize to the nice lady for bumping into her, Sasha. There we go… Sorry ma’am, and no I am not the father, the uncle. Yes, I agree, they are adorable. VICTORIA! No climbing on that tree! Come back here. You may climb onto my back. No there is no room up there for you too Sasha. No, do not be sad my little fox. Here,” she watched him bend down with Victoria giggling grabbing onto his shoulders and his sides with her legs as he bent down and picked up the boy, “Little foxes love going upside down, don’t they Sasha?” the little boy shrieked with joy as his uncle dipped him upside-down with a strong grip on his legs to ensure he would not fall before turning him the right way up.

Then came the matter of the best man.

Gaby had to set her drink down and bite down on her lip to stop snickering.

“No Solo, you are not the best man,” Illya said to their partner, “I have given the honor to a man who has saved my life many times.”

“Peril, I _have_ saved your life! Many times!”

“Yes, but Alexei is my friend. He was my only companion in my teenage years and in the KGB. We are not brothers but blood, but we are brothers.”

Gaby had never seen Napoleon look so out of turn and well, disorganized as he did, “But I’ve been preparing for this for the last two months! I stol- sorry, _acquired_ a designer Italian suit!”

“And you will look gorgeous, and you are doing an amazing job,” Illya commented mildly, shooting Gaby a smile.

“But-”

“Alexei is my best man.”

Napoleon looked like a small child who’d been denied an extra helping of dessert. He looked like Sasha.

“Although Gaby, we haven’t chosen our maid of honor, have we?”

She flittered her eyelashes to Napoleon, “Would you like that honor Solo?”

Napoleon smiled tightly to her and shook his head, “I have an appointment to look at the wedding cake right now. Excuse me.”

“You’re horrible, you know?” Gaby smiled.

“The Cowboy will recover,” Illya dryly shrugged, strolling over to her, and wrapping his arms around her, his hands resting together at the small of her back, “Now where were we before we were rudely interrupted?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Then small other things, potential problems that arose but Napoleon had dealt with, or those who’d grown close to them offered their help.

“Illya, I don’t know what to do. My father and his only brother are dead, I have no siblings…”

Illya took her small hands in his, “Do not worry.”

“But the wedding is in three days! How could we have missed this?”

She held up the simple invitations with fancy writing that they’d sent out to emphasize her worries.

_We hereby invite you to the joining of our two friends:_

_Gaby Teller & Illya Kurayakin._

_The First of September, Nineteen Sixty Eight_

  
CEREMONY:  
1:30  
  
COCKTAILS:  
5:30  
  
RECEPTION:  
6:30

_R.S.V.P. By August 4 th._

_COURTESY OF NAPOLEON SOLO_

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he squeezed her hands taking the invitation from them, “I think you should talk to Waverly.”

“Waverly?”

He nodded, “He holds you closer to his heart then you might think. After all, he is the president of UNCLE, and the man who made this all possible.”

Waverly had. The possibility of it being a near international scandal between the different espionage organizations was a true danger, but Waverly had dealt with them. In the following years after Rome UNCLE had acquired help from more organizations, until it truly was at a global standard with help from many nations. When Gaby had come to Waverly, informing him of her plans, having prepared herself to quit UNCLE if need be, he’d almost not looked up from the document he was reading before saying, “Oh, is that all? Congratulations then.”

Waverly then leant back in his large chair, and studied her, “I don’t suppose Mr. Solo and your close friends have discussed the dangers that it may pose in the field.”

“They have.”

“Well, then I won’t repeat them. Do you promise to not let it get in the way of the missions you go on?”

“I can’t promise that it won’t change the way our missions take place, but Illya and I have held each other close to our hearts for many years and it has not interfered enough to jeopardize the objectives.”

Waverly’s eyes crinkled with delight, and he reached for the two glasses and the clear bottle that she knew he kept in his second drawer to the left of his desk, “Well spoken Gaby. Let us toast to your upcoming union.”

Then they’d had a drink and chatted like the old time friends they were. Waverly also gave her his word that if she needed any help from UNCLE, he would be happy to help. Whether they needed personal or professional favor, it would not matter. He’d fully support them.

Gaby nodded to Illya, “Okay. I suppose he’ll still be working away in his office. Might as well head over.”

He kissed the top of her head, “Stay safe.”

“Always.”

She found Waverly still in his office. The man who’d originally been their strict senior had turned into a comforting elderly man with white hair.

“Gaby!” He stood up and walked over to her and hugged her, “How are you? Are you excited?”

“Yes,” she smiled, and made a mental note to herself to thank Illya because Waverly really, would be perfect for the job.

“What can I do for you? Do you need any last minute help with the wedding?”

Gaby nodded, “Yes. I, I realized that I completely forgot something very important, and that you’re the only person who could do it for me.”

“I’d be delighted to help you.”

“Well, ah, as you know I have to walk down the aisle. I don’t have any brothers, and my uncle and father are dead. And somehow, Napoleon just doesn’t seem fitting to do the job. I want you to be the one to walk me down the aisle, because over these past seven years, you’ve helped me so much, and lead me in the right directions.”

She studied the old man across from her and he looked to almost be in tears, “It would be my honor,” and then he hugged her again, “I suppose I’ll have to go and get my penguin suit dry cleaned then. Perhaps give Mr. Solo a run for his money.”

She laughed too, suddenly feeling ready to tear up despite her often firm control on her emotions, and her tears. So she hugged him again and they talked into the night.

And three days later, after all the effort of the past week, it all seemed to be coming to an end. Even Napoleon couldn’t do everything as the date rolled closer and entrusted them with various aspects of the wedding. Gaby smiled to herself in the mirror in the hall of the church, studying her makeup and hair replaying the previous hour.

Waverly surprised her with an old set of diamond earrings, “They were my grandmothers. It’s something old.”

Then Natalia had come up to her, in all her Russian beauty and Gaby briefly wondered how young she would have been when she had Illya, but no matter, she was quite a woman and an amazing mother to Illya’s half siblings. She helped Gaby with her hair, and while doing so, put a gorgeous pin made of sapphire and sterling silver, “Something borrowed and something blue.”

She was listening to the quiet buzz of their guests; friends from their missions abroad and at UNCLE, still studying herself in the mirror when Napoleon walked up to her. He reached into his inside breast pocket. It was a bracelet, “Courtesy of me. I heard that you still didn’t have something new,” he said, as he put it on her wrist.

“Napoleon…”

He looked at her earnestly, smiling a boyish smile, “And don’t worry Gaby, the receipt is in my pocket. I bought it.”

He waved a little piece of paper from his pocket that Gaby snatched and read, pleased that her newly acquired bracelet wasn’t stolen from anyone.

“You look gorgeous,” he smiled, “Of course, that’s all me, helping you pick out your dress, but really Gaby, you’re glowing.”

He kissed the side of her cheek, “Now get out there and make Peril’s jaw drop.”

She laughed and hugged him and thanked him again for being the wedding planner, organizer, and really, everything. He’d even created the menu for the dinner, and planned out the entertainment with promise that it was in good taste and appropriate.

Waverly was waiting for her, true to his word in his penguin suit with a crisp bowtie and looking the happiest she’d ever seen him. He held his arm out for her and she took it, and he led her down the aisle to the music of the organ.

Victoria and Sasha were well behaved as he walked with his small velvet blue box, firmly clasped in his hands, and while she, with the elegance that no six year old would normally possess softly threw the white rose petals on the carpet in front of her.

And then there he was. Standing at the front with his best man Alexei. His suit fit him perfectly- courtesy of Napoleon- and she noticed the shake of happiness and joy in his hands as he saw her in her dress and as the moment they’d dreamed of was becoming true.

The minister was a man they didn’t know well, but one that their friend from UNCLE who quite religiously went to church every Sunday, and had insisted that Father Burtánt would be quite happy to wed them in ceremony.

So when they clasped their hands together, Gaby’s smile couldn’t have felt more real, and more _alive_ and just looking at Illya, completed the feeling. He looked at her, with the same brilliant smile that she’d seen so rarely in their initial interactions but slowly through time she got to see more and more of. His blue eyes sparkled the same sparkle that she knew her brown ones had and his freshly cut hair looked quite becoming on him, and oh, just everything about it all was just so perfect, Gaby could not have been happier.

Father Burtánt began his opening speech, “We welcome you today…” and Illya squeezed her hands.

After all the time. All the waiting. All the secrecy. All the struggles and fights and make ups and the happy dancing moments that would turn into wresting which would then turn into something else entirely, Gaby couldn’t imagine her life without the man whom of which she could now call a husband, who made her laugh and cry in all the right, and sometimes the wrong ways but who could make her feel amazing emotions she’d never even dreamed of.

Then Sasha came up, looking all serious with his four year old sense of duty and solemnly handed the Father the two silver rings they’d chosen previously.

And then… and then…they were slipping the rings on their fourth fingers and speaking the words, “I do.” And finally, Father Burtánt swept his arms open and raised his voice, pronouncing them Mr. and Mrs. Kuryakin, and that Illya could kiss her for the first time, as husband and wife.

“I love you,” she whispered before his lips caught hers and his hands were on her back and he tipped her backwards to complete it to the cheers of their friends.

“I love you too,” he whispered, “Я люблю тебя,” he repeated it again, switching between the languages fluidly. 

Then the music swelled up to their favorite song. The first song that they’d danced or wrestled to, in the hotel room in Rome when Gaby had quite spectacularly passed out right on top of him. They interlocked their hands and ran down the aisle, or at least Gaby did and more pulled Illya along all while dancing to her all-time favorite song.

And the night passed away with amazing hilarity and happiness. Napoleon self-elected himself to make a speech right after the best man, sharing many silly and embarrassing stories about the two. The time in Berlin when an assassin burst into the room in the wee hours of the morning when only Illya was awake only because he woke up in the crack of dawn to go for a run when wasn’t injured. He’d immediately fired shots at the assailant in only his running shorts, waking up the other two who were also in various states of undress. It made for quite the scene for the manager of the hotel to see the three in their sleeping or underclothes with the morning sun in a room that had been destroyed by many bullets, and a large Russian. Eventually, Illya rose from his chair, and Napoleon cut his self-appointed speech short. 

After the matter of speeches and toasts they made their way down to the floor for the first dance. First they elected to dance properly before Gaby stood on Illya’s feet and he navigated them slowly and happily around the floor. Many dances later, Napoleon made his cooking appearance with the dessert table and they were in rapture, tasting cake with truffles, chocolate mousse, and mango ganache. It was all perfect.

“Of course it was,” Napoleon said smugly, “I planned it.”

He deserved the hug and punch from the both, and took it happily, toasting them a good night as they climbed into the black car with a driver waiting for them to take them to a fancy hotel for the night.

“I’ll take care of the guests and the clean-up.”

They were in their hotel room, with a large double bed and a bathroom bigger than they’d ever imagined. The radio playing softly in the background as they danced once again, barely even moving, but with their arms wound around each other and softly swaying to the beat. Gaby could hear Illya’s steady thrum of his heartbeat, and sighed in contentment.

“I know,” Illya murmured, “I feel the same,” he bent down once again and pressed a kiss slowly to her forehead, “I love you.”

And they let the night pass, as it slowly turned into morning and the sun rose from the horizon, whispering the three simple words that they would now continue to say for the rest of their lives.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Я люблю тебя = I love you


End file.
